


Where the Light Won't Find You

by May



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Drowning, Gen, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-04 12:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20470739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May/pseuds/May
Summary: Ash has retained the Powers of the Crown and, whenever he tries to train his powers, he attracts every water pokemon in the area. Sometimes, this is fine. Other times, it causes him some trouble.





	Where the Light Won't Find You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Firebull](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firebull/gifts).

> Hi, I hope you enjoy this, your prompt sounded so fun!

The background noise of Slateport beach babbles as Ash stands at the brink of the water, watching it lap at the sand. Pikachu sits close to him, his soft fur brushing against Ash’s naked calf. Ash has tried this three times since they said goodbye to Manaphy, and what he’s gathered is that it’s much easier in a bathing suit.

He crouches, the sand shifting between his toes and puts a gentle hand on Pikachu’s head. Pikachu quirks an ear and looks up at him.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” says Ash. “Once I’ve got this all figured out, you can come with me.”

“Pikaaaaa,” mutters Pikachu.

Pikachu settles himself into an ornery loaf and there’s a brittle pang in Ash’s chest. But the Powers of the Crown are less reliable since he isn’t actually anywhere near the crown, so Ash needs Pikachu to stay on land, for now. Ash knows he’s going to be drawing a crowd, and he doesn’t want Pikachu to get agitated and let off a thunderbolt in the ocean.

Not to mention, but there’s always a lot of tentacool and tentacruel around the further out you go. Ash really didn’t want Pikachu to end up poisoned.

Behind them, May lounges on a towel. She wasn’t upset about Manaphy, anymore, but, for a while, Ash had hated not being able to do anything to help his friend. Brock had told him that May had just needed time, that Ash couldn’t solve everything. He’d been right, in the end.

He turns to see May watching him, face half-shaded by her parasol. Her Squirtle lounges across her lap and she idly traces circles on his shell with one hand. She smiles gently at Ash. Ash knows he isn’t always the best at picking up social cues, but he also knows that this means that everything is okay and he grins in return. Brock and Max have gone to get ice cream, and might have gotten distracted by a lady Brock thinks is pretty.

Ash turns his attention back to Pikachu, whose ears are held flat against his head. Ash frowns, and gives him a tentative scritch on the back of his neck.

Ash looks down at Pikachu, whose ears are held flat against his head. Ash frowns, crouching to give him a tentative scritch on the back of his neck, which elicits a grumble from his grouchy mouse friend.

“Just wait here, okay, Pikachu,” he says. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Pika.” The response is terse, and Ash sighs, briefly placing his hand against Pikachu’s furry back before standing up.

“I won’t take long,” says Ash. He swallows and tears his attention away from Pikachu.

“Pika,” says Pikachu, again, and it’s softer, this time. When Ash looks down, he sees that Pikachu is perching on his hind legs and smiling at him, his eyes shining.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” says Ash, softly. “I will.”

The wet sand crunches under his feet as he walks far enough into the cool water to let it lap at his ankles. He takes this in for a moment, looking across at the expanse ahead of him, before heading in deeper. The water gets colder as it rises to his calves, then his thighs and Ash shivers when the water begins to soak through his shorts. Finally, the cool waves are bobbing around his waist, and he stops for a moment to feel the sea bed beneath his feet, sand shifting like clay, seaweed brushing against his ankles.

Not too far off, there’s a spot on the water where the curling waves make the sunbeams flicker across them. Ash moves towards it, until he’s in deep enough water that his feet leave the sea bed and he has to start paddling. A shoal of magikarp skim past him, a shock of red and gold beneath the surface. They go but, soon, they might come back. It’ll be like switching on a light.

When he gets there, Ash stops and turns towards the shore, treading water to stay buoyant. The sun warms his skin from above and the water underneath the waves is cool. He catches sight of a clamperl below him, its bulbous pale head visible inside its dark shell.

Over on the beach, Pikachu has stayed by the water’s edge, his yellow fur vivid against his surrounds, while May looks relaxed and golden. Max has returned, now clutching ice cream cones by May’s side, with Brock not far behind him. Ash smiles, and closes his eyes, watching the insides of his eyelids turn red when he tilts his head towards the sun. He breathes in the sharp sea air and then concentrates.

What comes next is knowing where he is and where the water is, and then making everything move together in the same way. Letting it in, letting it replace parts of him, almost. Ash thinks about his skin having the clear, sluicing movement of living water, and of thick, liquid tendons and muscles shifting and wrapping around white bone. Because he’d still have his core; it’s just his flesh that’s water, filling his body with new insides, and twisting beneath his ribs and gently cradling his beating heart.

He opens his eyes. That’s not what’s actually happening, but it’s what it feels like that’s more important, and that’s the way it’s always been for Ash. Even when he can’t find the right words to explain it.

The water pokemon come, attracted to the echoes left by the Prince of the Sea. Something brushes against Ash’s stomach: a remoraid, come to greet him, to nudge his heart with its nose. Instinctively, Ash contracts his stomach muscles, but its like he’s holding the water itself taut, and it could snap and break everything. So, he relaxes and lets everything in.

The remoraid flits back and forth, enraptured, its body a silver dart. A horsea wants to investigate his skin with its cautious snout, earfins fluttering. Ash sees the glistening, jellied dome of a tentacool, its curious tentacles exploring his presence.

It’s easy to start moving through water that accepts him as part of itself. Unlike swimming, where he needs to push against the water to propel himself through it, it simply makes way for him.

The warmth of the sun above him and the cool swallowing depth below him, the pokemon follow Ash as he moves. His skin yields softly to the light, suckered pull of an octillery’s tentacles as it undulates around him. He is gently bumped by the slow sway of a mantine’s fins as it swims beneath him.

Eager luvdisc turn their sides towards him, their scales shining and lushly pink. A solitary feebas fixes him with its bulging, piscine eyes and Ash thinks he can see everything it’s going to be. Even an enthralled vaporeon turns itself to water and envelops him to become another part of the ebb and flow.

Then they start coming up from deeper waters. The curious spark of a chinchou flickers on and off as it floats up towards the light and towards him. A relicanth moves against him, its scales rough and prehistoric, and he shivers, creating waves that ripple outwards.

Ash jumps, with his whole entourage, out of the sea to form an arc against the sun. The sun shines on his insides, and he feels the thrum of his own heart in his ears. Then he dives beneath the surface, twisting downwards until he can see fields of seaweed fronds and pits of abyssal darkness where the the sunlight can’t reach. The water doesn’t weigh on him; Ash feels perfectly light. The underside of the reflected sun in his eyeline, he propels himself back towards the surface.

He doesn’t think about it when something cold begins to curl around his waist. Something slick, sinuous and legless wraps around his torso and Ash doesn’t notice that there’s anything wrong until it squeezes.

Ash wriggles, panics and tries to stay moving like liquid, so that he can slip out of its coiled grip. But he can’t move. He forces back a sob as the creature moves its head into view. Its smooth skin is a delicate, sunless pink, with a slender proboscis. Where it isn’t wrapped around him, its movements are swaying and graceful. For moment, Ash is mesmerised, his tear-filled eyes wide. The gorebyss fixes him with a milky, globulous stare.

Then everything breaks. Ash’s hold on the water bursts in an instant, out from the center of his being. It hurts. Instinctively, he tries to scream, but water floods his mouth, catching in his throat and trickling down to fill his lungs and stomach. He closes his mouth to hold his breath, but his chest is already starting to burn. Ash claws at the gorebyss, hands scrabbling frantically at the smooth coils, but they stay strapped around him.

The other pokemon have scattered and all Ash can see is the acres of sea before him. The water feels like a clamp, now, pushing against him, the salt stinging his eyes. His throat aches, and he wants to cough up the water he’s swallowed, but the urge to hold his breath is, thankfully, too strong. The gorebyss makes a nauseating bubbling noise as he struggles.

Usually, Ash might be fascinated by the gorebyss, might have enjoyed having the chance to meet it, but all he wants to do now is get back to the beach and be safe with Pikachu and the rest of his friends. He pries his eyelids apart just to be able to glance the sunlit surface above him and, the gorebyss still trying to hold him in place, tries to kick his feet as much as his weakening strength will allow him. If he tries, he might be able to make it.

Ash kicks his legs and drags himself upwards until his lungs hurt so much that he feels like his chest might burst. He takes just a second to stop, but it turns out that that’s all the gorebyss needs to drag him a little further backwards. His stomach jolts, painfully, and he swallows vomit. He scrabbles weakly against it, his eyes stinging so much that he can’t tell whether it’s tears or salt water.

The water is heavy against him, the gorebyss tightening around his ribs. His lungs hurting so much he thinks he’s going to explode, Ash squints at the faint patch of sunlight above and tries to start kicking, again. The gorebyss nudges its proboscis against the side of his face, and trills mockingly, releasing a stream of bubbles. His vision blurry, Ash sees the bulge of its white eyes staring at him, waiting for him to give in so it could, so it could…

With all of the meagre strength that he can summon, Ash kicks his feet and twists his body, using everything he has to get to the surface.

He crashes through the surface of the water, its weight giving way to the lightness of the air and the heat of the sun. Ash coughs up the water in his lungs and stomach, his body convulsing with the effort. He brings up everything he can, even as it sears his throat.

The gorebyss still has him by the torso, constricting his ribs, but at least he can breathe, now. He splutters into the sea, his insides burning and his throat scratching. His eyes water, tears drying against his skin in the sun.

The gorebyss doesn’t attempt to pull him downwards and seems to be writhing against him. Ash pulls at its body, exhausted. It gives a quiet, unearthly whine, its gills flaring as it begins to suffocate in the air. It’s better for the both of them if he can make it let go.

It’s weak enough that he can pull the front of its body away from his, and it stills for a moment to look at him, eyes glazed.

“I’m gonna help you,” croaks Ash, and he peels it away from himself by about another foot. It looks calm, and he thinks that it might just be willing to go back to where it came from.

He doesn’t think to dodge when the gorebyss rises and flexes its sinuous body into an arc before diving forward to sink the tip of its proboscis into his flesh.

The proboscis drives into the fragile skin between Ash’s shoulder and his neck like a blade. Ash screams, his throat still burning. He tries to pry it off, but the proboscis can’t be dislodged inside him. In the distance, he sees the beach through his tear-filled eyes. Pikachu is on his feet and screaming, his cheeks beginning to spark, and his human friends are springing into action.

The wound in his neck doesn’t progress beyond a harsh sting, but the gorebyss flesh inside him feels slick and unnatural as it drives deeper, stretching the wound it made. Despite the sun, Ash starts to feel a chill, and he has trouble keeping his eyes open. A thunderbolt crackles against the gorebyss, forcing it to scream and fall away.

But Ash falls with it, once again drifting underwater. As his eyes close, he sees it escape into the deep, fleshly pink and engorged.

The next thing he knows, he’s being scooped up into somebody’s arms. Whoever it is feels warm, although Ash still feels so cold, his insides aching, his whole body sore. He opens his eyes a crack to see Brock carrying him, Pikachu perching on his shoulder, eyes round and anxious.

Groaning, Ash closes his eyes, and feels Pikachu spring gently onto his stomach. Ash makes a noise of discomfort, but it’s still welcome. Pikachu crawls up and settles on his chest, warm fur against wet skin. Ash raises a weak hand to pat his fur.

“Pika-pi,” says Pikachu, softly.

“Is he going to be okay?” says May, who must have gone with Brock to pull him out of the water.

“He’ll be fine,” says Brock. Ash feels his voice rumbling through his chest, next to him. “He needs to go to the hospital, though.”

Pikachu moves forward and starts lapping fussily at the wound the gorebyss made.

“Pikachu…” says May, though she doesn’t do anything to stop him.

“’s fine,” mutters Ash, and he finds that he barely has a voice, at the moment. But Pikachu’s tongue is raspy and tickling and much, much nicer than anything the gorebyss did to him.

“Oh, he’s awake,” says May, the relief in her voice palpable. Ash listens to the rhythm of their footsteps sloshing through the water as Brock carries him back to the shore.

As the noise of Slateport beach swells, Ash sighs to himself. He’ll just have to try harder, next time.


End file.
